Cain and Mabel (1936)

October 19, 1936

At the Strand

J.T.M.

Published: October 19, 1936

In order that the aureate charms of Miss Marion Davies may not want for suitable settings in so gusty a flippancy as the late H. C. Witwer's "Cain and Mabel," Cosmopolitan has loosed the fitful dreamings of Bobby Connolly into the tale. The result is a colossus of incongruity, rather like staging a prizefight in the Taj Mahal.

Mr. Connolly has dreamed magnificently for this newest presentation of Miss Davies to her admirers. Great structures of wedding cake filigree, encrusted with groupings of powdered pulchritude, dissolve into cameos, nay coups de theatre, of Miss Davies in the guise of glamorous and notable ladies of legend and history.

Alabaster palaces rise beside Venetian canals, with banks which float together to permit a modern ballroom ensemble to sway while a male chorus offers a few bars of "Who?" (from "Sunny").

The seigneurs and dames of Le Petit Trianon appear in the accepted Versailles settings and postures, dissolving to reveal Miss Davies as an imperious Du Barry.

The stages revolve, and, while angel bands flap beatifically skyward, milk-white columns, each topped with a figure in stylized nunnish garb, rise to form a huge pipe-organ effect. The wimpled company in the forefront of this mighty instrument parts its ranks and a briefly attired corps de ballet leaps lightly forth, artfully directing the eye to front center, where the magic camera has been materializing Miss Davies, from a heap of Arthurian finery, as the Lady Guinivere.

These are the modest interpolations calculated to elevate the robust "Cain and Mabel" from its earthiness. Cain, who is Clark Gable turned prizefighter, is unable to sleep the night before an important bout because Mabel O'Dare, who is then Miss Davies as a waitress, is practicing the tap routines for her first musical comedy lead in the room above. They have words and go their separate ways, Cain to become the heavyweight champ and Mabel to win moderate success under the inspired guidance of a press agent named Aloysius K. Reilly.

The complaint of Jake (Walter Catlett) Sherman, that the ushers in the theatre are quitting because they're afraid to be alone in the dark, urges Mr. Reilly to great inspirational heights. He conceives, and executes, a mutual crush between Miss O'Dare and Cain, whose lack of personality is hurting his chances for big gate receipts. While the principals agree to the plan, thus popularizing Mabel's show beyond Bobby Connolly's wildest dreams, they continue to disagree with each other, Miss Davies's vituperation being in the classic humor of the late Mr. Witwer, with Mr. Gable's sallies taking on the added significance of being forthright dramatic criticism of Miss Davies, pardon, of Miss O'Dare. The redolence of a frying pork-chop proves to be a veritable dart from the blind bowboy, however, and Cain and Mabel decide to let bygones be bygones over a midnight snack in her pied à terre, pledging a true troth that shall be, as Mabel says. "Our secret. We won't even tell the newspapers."

Fortunately, matters do not end there, due to the machinations of the apparently omniscient Aloysius K. Reilly, and the remaining scenes do much to redeem the really lively story after the baroque production business that Cosmopolitan methods insist upon. Roscoe Karns's press agentry should be an inspiration to that forlorn calling. Miss Davies's comedy scenes are, traditionally, her best, despite the studio's notion to the contrary. Mr. Gable's rôles are becoming routine matters. He needs another "Mutiny on the Bounty.